An Angel's Kiss in Spring
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: Lavender has lived a long life searching for her soulmate. It's when she's given up that she finally finds her. Parvati/Lavender soulmate!AU, for Hannah


_For Hannah (TheLestrangeMistress). Happy birthday!_

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 **An Angel's Kiss in Spring**

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Lavender smiled as she spotted her old friend, Isha Patil, across the beautiful gardens where her granddaughter's wedding ceremony was being held. It had been some fifteen or sixteen years since she'd last seen her, but she still recognised the aged woman.

Isha was leathery skinned and silver-haired now, but the mischievous glint in her chestnut eyes was still there. "Look at you, Lavender," she cooed as she clasped Lavender's hands. "You still don't look a day over eighteen."

Lavender's smile waned. It was something she was constantly reminded of, especially when she was around people who were physically aging. It was her curse within this world, where your aging process relied solely on whether or not you met your soulmate.

The only perk in her long life was the dreams. Anyone who was destined to meet a soulmate started to have dreams of them as soon as they turned eighteen. When you were new to the dreams, they didn't make sense. They were conceptual; only giving the dreamer glimpses of their soulmate. However, Lavender had been waiting a long time for her soulmate, and as such, her dreams had become much more refined. She was able to distinguish a face, smells, even the tone of her soulmate's voice—but it hadn't made it any easier for Lavender to actually meet her. She'd made many mistakes, and fallen in love with too many people who weren't made for her.

"What a beautiful wedding," Lavender exclaimed as she took a seat next to Isha, instantly avoiding the subject of her agelessness. "Who is the lucky couple?" Lavender had only popped into the wedding reception upon learning that her old friend would be there, and didn't actually know who the bride or groom was. Isha gestured towards a couple who were swaying together in the centre of the makeshift dance floor.

"One of my granddaughters, Padma. That is her new husband, Terry. Her parents were hoping for a nice young Indian man, but I reminded them that it isn't how true soulmates work." Her eyes twinkled knowingly.

Lavender's heart ached as she watched Padma dance in the middle of the gardens. Just like so many women before her, Padma embodied many of the features of the soulmate that Lavender was so desperate to find. She looked magnificent in her bridal finery; her slender body was swathed in ivory and champagne-coloured satin, her shiny black braid tickled her lower back as she moved, and her copper-dashed eyes sparkled as she looked at her husband. He was her true soulmate—Lavender had been around long enough to recognise the sparks that flickered between them.

"What happened to your soulmate?" Lavender asked Isha, glancing around the room. She couldn't spot Isha's husband anywhere.

"Arjun died around five years ago," Isha replied sadly. "He was very sick, however. It was a relief to see him out of pain when he left us."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Lavender responded. She placed her hands on top of Isha's. "And I'm so sorry that I haven't been around more."

"That's okay, dear. I can't imagine how busy you've been." The twinkle returned to Isha's eyes. "I can only imagine how hard you've been working to locate your soulmate."

Lavender drew back her hands. "If I'm being honest, Isha, I've stopped looking." She paused, glancing down at her silver-painted fingernails. "I've spent so many painful years searching for my soulmate. If she truly is out there, she'll find me."

"Don't lose hope, Lavender." Isha smiled. "I know you will connect with her one day. It may be sooner than you think."

Lavender turned back to watch the couple dancing, and was surprised to see a new person had joined the bride and groom. She had her back to Lavender, but Lavender could tell the pair were sisters—they had the same narrow figure, jet-black hair, and umber skin.

"Who is that?" Lavender asked, leaning towards Isha.

"My other granddaughter. Parvati is Padma's twin."

At that moment, Parvati turned around, and Lavender was sure that her heart stopped. The woman was dressed in a traditional Indian garb; a deep pink gown adorned with a glittery golden sash, accessorized with beautiful golden jewellery and a delicate crown made from roses. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in an elaborate braided fashion. She was so radiant—Lavender had known hundreds of women, but none of them seemed to have a light glowing beneath their skin, which made Parvati seem almost amber in complexion. Their eyes locked together across the wedding reception, and Lavender was walking towards Parvati before she even realised her feet were moving.

"My name is Lavender," she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. Parvati smiled luminously.

"Parvati," she replied. She held out her hand for Lavender to shake, and when their fingers slid together, Lavender experienced every cliché in the book. Her stomach flooded with a warmth that almost made her bend double; their fingertips seemed to crackle with an unseen electricity; everyone else in the room vanished. "Why do I feel like I know you?" Parvati asked, taking a while to let go of Lavender's hand. "It's strange—I'm sure I would remember meeting someone like you."

"Let's go to the bar," Lavender said. "I think we need to get a drink."

The pair wandered inside the large tent, which was set up alongside the gardens, and had a long bar and several tables. Lavender and Parvati took a seat at the bar and were handed flutes of champagne by the barman, which they sipped from as they turned to face each other.

"How do you know Padma?" Parvati asked innocuously. "We're twins, and generally we know all the same people."

"Oh, I don't, actually," Lavender replied. "I know Isha—your grandmother. I heard of the Patil wedding happening today, and I thought I'd come by and see if she would be here. It's been a while since I saw her."

Parvati looked surprised. "You know my grandmother?"

Lavender realised that it seemed a little strange, a seemingly much younger woman being acquainted with someone so old. "She was friends with my grandmother," she explained quickly, before rushing to change the subject. "So, why don't you tell me about you?"

oOo

After moving through a couple of bottles of champagne, Lavender and Parvati were quite drunk—Parvati a little more than Lavender. "I don't want to stop talking to you," Parvati confessed, slurring her words. "Do you want to get breakfast tomorrow? I know a great little place not far from here."

"I have a better idea," Lavender replied. "Come spend the night with me, and I'll make you breakfast." She didn't really expect Parvati to accept her invitation—after all, they'd only just met—but to her surprise, Parvati nodded enthusiastically. They stood up from the bar, and Lavender grabbed a handful of almonds from a small dish as they headed out of the bar.

Lavender's home wasn't far away from the wedding venue, and when they reached her apartment, which was at the top floor of a tower block, they were exhausted. Lavender gave Parvati a set of her pyjamas, and she retreated to the bathroom to change, while Lavender did the same in the bedroom. When Parvati returned, they curled up on top of the bedcovers, facing each other.

Although they were both exhausted, Lavender couldn't stop talking, and neither could Parvati. The alcohol made Lavender feel more confident, and before long she had explained how the other woman had been the main feature of her dreams for as long as she could remember. "I've met so many women who look like you," Lavender admitted. "But none of them turned out to be my soulmate."

Parvati told Lavender how she was still only young—she only turned nineteen just some months before—and she hadn't dated anyone. She hadn't understood her dreams, but after meeting Lavender, she realised that the abstract memories (the swish of a gypsy skirt, a tangle of blonde curls, the flicker of a thick lash) were of Lavender. "I'm sure you're the one," she whispered, edging closer to Lavender.

Before the pair could seal their confessions with a kiss, Lavender moved her mouth to Parvati's cheek. "I really hope we are soulmates," she whispered. "But let's not move too soon."

oOo

The next morning, Parvati awoke to the smell of coffee and the sound of meat sizzling from the kitchen. She stretched out her limbs in the large bed, and rolled over to Lavender's side to sit up.

Just before she stood up, she spotted something on the bedside table. It was an old, ornate wooden box with a battered brass clasp. The box was so beautifully crafted, Parvati was overwhelmed with sheer curiosity. She reached out for the box, carefully unlatching the clasp. Nothing could prepare her for what she found inside.

The box was full to the brim with paper; photographs, drawings, painted portraits, little scraps of paper with love notes written and full length letters. Parvati sifted through the box, until she found an extremely old piece of paper: the parchment was so thin it almost felt like cotton when Parvati lifted it out of the box.

She unfolded it carefully. It was a painting, weathered with age, but the people in the portrait were still quite clear. There were two women: one darker-skinned and seated in a gold-gilded throne, dressed in old-fashioned Indian clothing and her hands and arms elaborately painted with Mehndi. The other woman stood up beside the throne, clutching the back of the chair with white-knuckled fingers. She wasn't wearing Indian clothes, instead she was proudly dressed in traditional European fashions—a crimson gable hood with golden embroidery, and a dark red gown with billowing sleeves. Although her golden hair was mostly covered by the hood, there was no mistaking the woman's soft facial features. She looked uncannily like Lavender.

Parvati saw a date scrawled in the corner of the painting—1531. She wondered if this had belonged to one of Lavender's ancestors, and began to sift through the rest of the pictures.

There were dozens. All of them featured one or two women. All of them pictured a woman of Indian or Middle Eastern race, and another woman who looked a lot like Lavender. Some were paintings like the first one, some were sketches, and photographs started from the mid 1800s.

The most recent photograph shook Parvati to her core. It was taken at some point in the 1950s. Parvati knew this because she recognised the other woman in the image. She had a black-and-white photograph in a frame in her house, showing the Indian woman wearing the exact same poodle skirt and wide-brimmed hat. It was her grandmother, Isha.

The woman with her had her arm hooked around her narrow waist, and smiled brightly into the camera. She had thick curly hair and a heart-shaped face, and there was no mistaking her this time. She wasn't an ancestor or a grandmother—she was Lavender.

On the back of the photograph, in slanted, loopy font, was a single word. _Isha._

Parvati picked up the box and walked into the kitchen, where Lavender was plating up breakfast. She smiled as she spotted Parvati, though it soon faltered when her eyes settled on the box. "Parvati," she spluttered, putting the plates down firmly on the kitchen table. "I can explain."

Before Lavender can continue, Parvati dropped the box on the table and crossed the kitchen, cupping Lavender's face with her hands and capturing her lips in a kiss. Lavender reached up and held onto Parvati's wrists, and when they broke apart, she was visibly surprised. "I'm...shocked," Parvati confessed. "But I'm not angry. I understand how hard it must have been for you, moving through the centuries, falling in love with people and having to accept that they weren't your soulmate."

Lavender's blue eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you," she explained. "I've been heartbroken so many times, and it's been so long since I met someone I thought could be the one…"

"My grandmother," Parvati murmured, and Lavender nodded.

"I was so positive that Isha was my soulmate," Lavender continued. "And when she found your grandfather, my heart just couldn't take it anymore. I gave up trying to find her. Before Isha, I'd travelled to every edge of the world looking for my soulmate." Lavender reached into the box and found the painting. She pointed to the woman on the throne. "I saw a portrait of her at a flea market in London," she told Parvati. "I was only eighteen at the time, but I felt so confident that she was the one. I used up every ounce of gold I had saved to board a passage to India, and it took an extreme amount of effort to earn favour with the Mughal princess, but she thought she loved me too. Unfortunately, like everyone else I met after her, it wasn't meant to be."

Parvati laced her fingers between Lavender's and gripped her hands tightly. "Did you feel the things with them, that you felt when you met me?" she asked, her golden brown eyes boring into Lavender's. "Did you?"

Lavender's eyes flickered to the floor. "It's been so long, I can't remember. Perhaps I thought I did at the time."

Parvati released one of Lavender's hands and reached up to brush a tear from her cheek. "I'm more confident than anything that you are my soulmate," she whispered, pressing chaste kisses to Lavender's face. "I know you've had more experience, but I know you felt it too. I understand," she paused, bringing Lavender's hand up to her face to kiss her knuckles. "I won't rush you. Let's take things slow, and see if we start to...change."

Parvati was referring to the aging process, and Lavender looked momentarily hopeful. "Thank you, Parvati," she whispered, and edged forward to kiss Parvati, winding an arm around her waist to draw her in closer. "If you really are my soulmate, then I've been waiting a long time for you." Their lips moved together urgently, heatedly, until Lavender finally drew back, gasping for breath. "Perhaps we should eat breakfast, before it goes cold," she said, grinning.

Parvati felt her face burn, and she smiled back shyly. As they sat down to eat, she watched Lavender across the table.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Parvati was almost sure that a faint wrinkle had set in to her previously smooth cheek.

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 **Written For:**

Assignment #10/Muggle Music: Task #3 - Write a Soulmate!AU

Chocolate Frog Cards: (Silver) Parvati Patil - Write about Parvati Patil

Cooking Club Ingredients: Strawberries - (song) Summer Wine by Lana del Rey

Scavenger Hunt: Prompt Set - (word) dreamer, (action) dancing, (object) love note, (object) flower crown

Film Festival: (word) positive, (dialogue) "Do you want to get breakfast?"

Writing Club/Shannon's Showcase: Belarus - (word) magnificent, (object) rose, (theme) love

Writing Club/Book Club: Marguerite - (event) wedding, (action) making someone breakfast, (food) almond

Writing Club/Showtime: The Bishop - (colour) silver

Writing Club/Lyric Alley: "and she was there all pink and gold and glittering"

365 Prompts: (dialogue) "I've been waiting a long time for you."

2018 Fanfiction Resolutions: Write a Soulmate!AU

 **Word Count:** 2,426


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